


2XXX

by PeopleOfThePit



Category: In a Heartbeat (Short Film)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, A ton of tws too, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Branding, Imprisonment, Inspired by Mad Max Series (Movies), M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Roleplay, sort of prince and pauper au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 17,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleOfThePit/pseuds/PeopleOfThePit
Summary: Written by Dexter and Sinister.Year 2XXX. The world is nothing but sun and sand, with little to no water available to everyman's hand. Sherwin has been running for weeks now, escaping the blood and gore and rage of the Sand Demons. He arrives in the city, controlled by the privileged Royals, who control the water supply and have the population feeding out of the palm of their hand, and one of which has a very developed interest in him indeed...Will be uploaded a reply at a time. Rated M for graphic violence.





	1. Stinger-Sinister

Day One. The First Day. It always seemed the most challenging, unable to adapt to the sudden changes in surroundings. The harsh, dry heat and the isolated feelings, Sherwin would never get used to. Always in a stage of adrenaline, he's been in flight across this barren landscape, too much in fear for his own life. Unable to make time to properly mourn or at least make a fake funeral for his Mum and his Dad, he runs thinking that Sand Demons are on his tail. He managed to escape them, to escape a terrifying blood ritual in which he may have been sacrificed to in honor of the TiOni. So he has been running for his life for many days, so much focus into making haste, that he has forgotten the time, the day, and the year, just like every other person in this world of 2XXX. So as soon, as he slowed his run, his fleeing, he made that day into a Day One. A day where he finally felt something. A day where he could begin to be upset and stress his life away. Day One, at high noon, he approaches a cesspool, or rather a "Cestpol" from the way the locals described it. With the weight of his few belongings- a tent, a canteen, some lizard meat and a crystal that was given to him by his Mum- he had started to hunch and lumber about this town. The flies were plenty and there was the occasional rat. Wailing and distant cries could be heard as the common melancholy. And the unmistakable Red District, where batted, scarred, and rough edged travelers would make their plea for a "cure" to their emotional and mental pain. When Sherwin arrived into the midst of it all, he already wanted to turn around and go back. But there was no going back. He could only move forward, lest he meet up with the familiar ax-wielding, mangy coyote-pelt wearing, and manic-in-the-eyes Sand Demon.


	2. Dexter

Guards marched through the crowd in the open marketplace, parting the crowd like a hot wire through butter. They were tall, tough, battle-scarred, and were visibly better hydrated than any other person present in the rat infested streets. They marched slowly, like moving walls surrounding and protecting what they held within.  
  
Jonathan followed the movement mutely, glancing from time to time at the stalls. Nothing new ever appeared on them, only the same old grains, sun-beaten metal, bleached fabrics and dust-covered plastics. He had followed his mothers instructions to get out of the vegetative state he had conserved for the last few months : get out of the condo, explore the town, she said. See the beauty of the world you live in.  
  
Well, that was not working out too well. All he wanted to do was return to his room as fast as possible and weep. This world was not beautiful. There was nothing here of colour. Everything had been bleached away since his father’s death, since he had seen the slight swing of that all-too-familiar corpse hanging from a lampost, crows and flies forming a cloud that nearly obsured the message written on the whitened concrete at the base of the improvised gallows…  
  
Jonathan shuddered, pushing away the thought, but everything reminded him of that. There were too few colours. Instead of trying to interest himself in the shoddy marketplace, he let his eyes fall to the sleeves of his clothes : bright yellow details were weaved into the cornflower cloth, and the view soothed him instantly. There. Better.  
Suddenly, a sound came to his ears, something other than the dust-charged wind blowing through the streets or the cry of feral dogs, or even the scream which indicated of some crime or suffering. No, this was laughter, cruel and low.  
  
The royal prince looked up in surprise. Didn’t this person know of the unsaid rule that no commoner was to speak in a royal’s presence ? Obviously not. His curiosity was piqued rather than his anger however, so he gestured to his guards to move aside so he could see what was happening.  
  
The second the burly men and women stepped aside, Jonathan stopped breathing. It had been too long, way too long since he had seen a colour naturally occuring in these streets rather than having to be seen inside the palace. Orange-red, like fire, like the sun setting in the distance caught his eye more surely than any expensive fabric ever had. He was captured.  
  
Unfortunately, the source of this colour seemed to be so too. A man leered at him, towering over the redhead boy with a grin on his pockmarked face and a knife in his free hand, the other grasping the boy’s chin.  
  
« Well well, I’m wondering what demon fodder like you is doing in our town. Don’t you know the kinds of you are not welcome here ? »  
  
The boy shook his head, absolutely terrified. Jonathan looked upon the scene, curious despite the fact this was a common occurrence.  
  
« Well, you ain’t. Give me that nice big bag of yours and I might just- »The man brought the knife closer to the boy’s cheek. « -let you leave with your life. Capische ? »  
  
It had been months since Jonathan had felt any emotion at all, be it anger, empathy… anything other than melancholy, really. But now, something struck his brain, something that prompted him to step forward and to order his guards to seize the boy’s agressor and the boy himself. They both kicked and tried to evade their grasp, but it was of no use.  
  
« My good sir, » Jonathan started, adressing the mugger. « I will politely ask you not to attack this boy again. Tam, please take away his knife and water cantine. »  
Tam did indeed do so, then left the man in the dirt. All his worldly belongings now gone, he could only sit, starring at his empty hands. He was condemned if he didn’t find water soon, as were all the people here.  
  
« As for you... » he started, turning to the redhead teen. He seemed to know the respects due to the royals more than his aggressor had, as he let his gaze drop and didn’t look up at all. « You are to come with me. You’re invited to stay at the condo. Baz, let him go now, he is a guest. »  
  
The bodyguard obliged, even though the look on his face was that of disgust rather than anything else.  
  
« So, young man… What is your name ? »  
  
The redhead looked up for a second, shock painted across his face in great strokes, before being replaced with panic. He bit his lip and looked to the ground, not replying.


	3. Sinister

The outdoor marketplace smelled of mediocre edibles, and Sherwin was pretty sure he spotted someone trying to sell half-rotten tomatoes. He had obeyed himself and kept moving forward through the town. He had seen brick and wooden places that were patched over with adobe, as a form of repair from Sand Demon attacks. And he had finally betrayed himself, and stopped for only a moment to look at the environment and the people it had sheltered. Many of which who wore drab linens and cottons, looked like they've owned that one article of clothing longer than he, himself, had been alive. Scowls and distraught faces, which were mostly soot-smeared or full of cuts, bickered with each other if there was any more inconvenience in their lives. He knew he had paused for too long because a strong hand had pulled him by the scarf and slammed him into the wall of a building. It made him let out a small cry because of the poor handling of his back. He quickly made eye contact with a greasy, stubble-covered face, and squinted eyes. The man who had pinned him to the wall was definitely appearing more of a foe than a friend. Sherwin quivered and shook, knowing that this would probably be his last hour. The man made a choked chuckle, chewing and teasing the cigar which hung from his mouth.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" He muttered, condescendingly. He continued on by calling him a "demon fodder" that mistakenly stumbled through the place. He was shaking his head, as the low-life pulled out a ballistic knife, like one a soldier in the military would use, and placed on it Sherwin's cheek, grazing the peach fuzz that was present. Then the man with his reeking breath, made a threat to hand over his belongings, or else he'd be dead meat. Sherwin was about to cry from the panicking, not wanting to say a word, knowing that either way, whether he spoke or not, he'd be surely dead. The tussle had been interrupted which only made Sherwin more fearful for his life. The Royal Guard arrived and pried him and the man away from each other and Sherwin tried to squirm away. His fate would be worse for him if these guards had found out what he was. He was mildly relieved that he wasn't being automatically interrogated and that the man who attacked him was now disarmed and punished. Although, fear had returned to him in the form of a Royal's presence, especially when being addressed by... him. He knew immediately not to make eye contact, and instead stare down at his legs.

He began to internally panic as he was commanded to follow the Royal, which he did, so he would not be seized and be threatened by the guards again. And it became apparent that he was be dragged to his home, and he could not refuse the offer, unless again, he'd be seized by guards. He followed the motion and rhythm of blue legs and didn't dare to look up because it could be seen as disrespectful. He heard a prompting question and had only looked up slightly, at at the arms of the Royal, and stressed out more so than he did with the stranger's tussle. _My name? Wait I cannot speak. You must not see me speak._ His thoughts lacked courtesy, he knew, but he must listen to himself for his own good and survival. He didn't answer this question and instead looked away from the evident, illuminating blue that stood out against everything. He bit his lip but only with his two front teeth, not wanting to reveal what was concealed in his mouth. _You can't know._ He thought it would be best to answer the question to make sure his fate didn't head off into the wrong direction. He covered his mouth gently, so the prestigious one, could not see what kind of vile atrocity was made home in his mouth. He murmured softly, hoping he could be heard over the sound of the bustling crowds. "My name is Sherwin."


	4. Dexter

"Sherwin... As in sure-win? That's not a common name, especially amongst your class..." Something was off, Jonathan could sense. He understood that this commoner was afraid, but there was something about the way he hid himself... He would look into that later, he thought. For now, all he could do was stare longingly at that mane of tangled, dirtied, but still characteristically fire-red hair. He loved colour, appreciated it so much, and this was candy to his eyes. He had found the rare splash of colour in a sea of what had seemed like greys and beiges for way too long, and he was not going to pass up on the occasion to appreciate this gift as much as possible. "Well, Sherwin... I'm sure you'll appreciate a little bit of rest and comfort after your journey... What would you say to bathing and sharing the household meal with us tonight? We'll provide you with all you need, worry not." He was curious, really. He had never met a person such as him before, not with such a tint to his hair nor a secret to his heart. He was just as desert-scarred and dirty as the rest of the people who composed this town, but there was... life to him. Something he could not quite grasp. A spark.

And he was determined to discover what this kid had to offer. They arrived at the condo gates, and he gestured to the guards standing in the one lone watchtower. The gates opened, and beyond lay the pools and gardens, not large so as to not drain too much precious water, but enough to show the wealth of his family. Before Jonathan could even utter a word to describe the place, Sherwin stopped, dark-rimmed eyes opened wide and hand clasped over his mouth, halting so abruptly that the guard following behind bumped into him. There seemed to be some sort of realisation there, a glimmer in his eyes which seemed to give him new life. Jonathan marvelled, managing to see for the first time in forever the emotions on another person's face. A weight flew from his shoulders, allowing him to breathe in deeply. "You are all dismissed, save you, Sherwin. You are to accompany me to the baths. I wish to know more of you, traveller. You seem to have more than one tale to tell." With a swish of his gown, he brushed past his guards, stepping confidently, certain that the boy was following him. The collonade surrounding the inner garden was a cool respite from the sun, the sound of their feet tapping against the coloured tile relaxing. "So, Sherwin... who are you exactly?"

He waited for an answer, but none came for several seconds. This kid was quiet, quieter than most commoners, who liked to screech and yell at each other on a regular basis. Sometimes, they could even hear it from within the confines of the condo, they were so loud. It was intriguing. He rounded a corner, slowing down when he saw his mother coming towards them. Her slippers barely made any noise on the mosaics, but her tall stature and regal posture were enough to make her presence known and noted to all people around. Jonathan bowed to her as she approached, greeting her in the polite fashion. "My son," she started, replying to his gesture with a brief nod of her own. "... and who may I ask, is this?" Her nose had creased, just a little, not by much, but it was enough to show her disgust. "This is Sherwin, mother. He is a guest," Jonathan tried to plead, but she stopped him with a raised hand. "My son... Really, this is astonishing. Astonishingly stupid." She moved closer to Sherwin, catching his chin in her hand and turning his head from side to side. "If you had wanted a... _pet_ , you could have asked me. I know some good providers in the Red District, you shouldn't just pick up any old stray from off the streets. Especially-" she let go of Sherwin, taking out a handkerchief to wipe off her hand. "-a _redhead_ ".

Jonathan was not shocked by her reaction, but rather hurt. What she was insinuating sounded extremely unfair to him, but there wasn't much he could do other than bow to her as she strode away, off on one of her many "duties". A son needs to respect his mother, always. "Well, we should move along," Jonathan stated, looking back at the other boy once more. His head hung lower than before, it seemed, and he had grasped his arm in a nervous gesture. Again, he felt the twinge of an emotion, compassion, maybe, but he pushed it away in favour of concentrating on the task at hand. "We should go to the baths now if we are to be clean for dinner. Please, follow me."


	5. Sinister

Cowering, pulling his arms into the safety of his soft, yet slightly rugged burgundy poncho, it appeared that the Royal and he approached a gate to nothing other than a home of a Royal family. He was scared, not ready to enter in such a highly secure place, but he couldn't run. He would be caught by guard's, be punished, and have his "marks" discovered. He had to obey this Royal until he was told that he could be released back into the desert. He had heard the invitation to a bath and a meal, and much as he was willing to accept, he could not. If he is to bathe, he will reveal that horrid branding of a pair of demon's wings. If he is to eat in a dining situation, all will turn their heads to the pointed canines and forked tongue. And he was not ready to accept that invitation. Not at all. He was thankful that Jon had not asked for his answer, rather keeping quiet during the journey towards the condo. When the gate had opened and he stepped inside with the Royal, he had seen... Green. It had been a very long while since he saw green this vibrant. Used to seeing a dull yellow-green out in the crusty surfaces of the desert, he was overwhelmed, but in a good way. He paused in his tracks to look around the garden. Though is seemed small and maybe a little bit too modest of a lawn, this was what wealth looked like. Pools of water, and and jasmine bushes that left a strong, flower-y aroma in the air. _Is this the Oasis? Maybe?_

The Royal dismissed his guards and Sherwin could feel his gaze on him. Of course, he kept his head down, maintaining his humbleness among this surprisingly kind and wealthy individual. He was verbally beckoned by him to follow and walked through an arcade, each column he passed giving him a short period of shade. He had asked yet another pressing question which made Sherwin spiral back into a mode of anxiety. _Just say you're a traveler._ He had yet again covered his mouth and looked away, mumbling, "I'm just a traveler." The Royal did not answer to his response which made Sherwin briefly look back up to the height of his arms. He realized another Royal, approaching with a sure stride in... her step. This must be the head of the house. Instead of focusing on the two Royals greeting each other, he looked to the floor at the tiles and wonderfully elaborate mosaics. He had looked to the direction of the new arrived Royal, eyes still fixated on the floor, when his name had been mentioned.

A snooty voice he had heard and subtly reprimanded the younger Royal for bringing such peasant filth to her home. He cringed internally when his face had been touched and pulled up to make eye contact to the source of the haughty statements. He had only felt more uncomfortable when she spoke about the Red District, sharp and icy grey-blue eyes boring into his own. He was nervous the way her fingers gripped his jaw and hoped she wouldn't make a move to forcibly open his mouth. She let go quickly and insulted him for an understandable reason. Having the hair of the fire of TiOni was what Sherwin was greatly burdened with. That wherever he walks, he's probably dragging Sand Demons along with him. He looked back down with shame and regret. He should've ran. And then be quickly be killed off. He should've submitted himself to the Sand Demons. He gripped at his arm with the other and darted his eyes around on the floor, nervously. When he felt the wind of the Head Royal pass him, he looked up to the younger Royal's arms, listening, getting ready to abide to another command. Again he was upset and worried by another request that he should bathe and come to dinner with him, with haste. He followed the young Royal once more, and he shook his head several times along the way, as he guided him through the home. He had also whispered a few strings of rapid "no"s, realizing that this request would demand him to open up like a book. _No way._ When he had approached the bathhouse area he immediately stopped in his tracks and looked to the arms again. He then looked away towards the pool of water, covering his hand over his mouth once more, "No, I can't accept this. Forgive me. You are too kind."


	6. Dexter

The refusal struck like a blow to the stomach, pulling an instinctive snarl from his lips. Being refused something, anything, was something that he was not used to, and he reached forward and violently pulled at Sherwin's hair, forcing him to look him in the eye. Not a second later, realising what he had done, he quickly let go and took a step back, brushing invisible dust off of his clothes, trying to regain his composure. He paused mid-brush, sighed, knowing he couldn't just do that.  
He looked up to Sherwin, who had backed up and looked more or less ready to run, and probably would have if he did not run the risk of falling into a pool. Jonathan too a step forward cautiously, not helping the other boy's state in the slightest, but he wanted to make sure that he was heard.  
"Sherwin, I apologise. My action was not thought out and I regret it deeply. Please, please let me learn from it and don't be afraid, alright? I promise that I mean you no harm. I... it's ok if..." he stopped, a thought coming to mind. "It's scarring, isn't it? Where is it?"  
He nodded. "What if I give you my word that I won't look? Will that be enough?"


	7. Sinister

He heard a snarl and quickly his head had been yanked upwards to forcibly look at the young Royal in his eyes. He was not quite expecting it at all and he was stabbed with blue eyes again, but they weren't quite as sharp as the Head Royal's. The dim, cool bath area only made those eyes darker and bluer. He was scared he'd be killed right then and there, but he saw a regret in his eyes and he retreated, releasing Sherwin from the restraining grasp. He backed up, or stumbled rather, contorting his body in a position that would allow a quick start of a run, perhaps to jump through a window. He nearly slipped into the pool, backing away from the prosperous boy, only to have him take a hesitant step forward. He had pleaded for his forgiveness which had made him slightly surprised. He froze in response to this and let him continue. He didn't want to harm him, he had said. And then....  _He knew, didn't he..._ Sherwin nodded. He didn't respond to the next questions. He had become loose, sad and in shame. And he had surrendered, he submitted to the Royal, hoping that if he were to die it would be by his hand and no violent guards or crazy Sand Demons. He allowed the boy to come forward. And he only physically sank, ready to take the blow if there was one. But there wasn't. He had softly pulled the boy's head back up and whispered about where the scars were. Sherwin looked away from him and started shedding tears and then broke down into sobs. If the boy didn't already see what was up with his mouth, he must be blind.


	8. Dexter

As expected, he got no answer to his questions. He stepped forward, again and again, until he was facing the trembling boy.  He had sunken down, and  would have probably fallen to his knees if he had not caught him on time. Carefully, he cupped his face in his hands and made him look at him again, the rest of the boy's body leaning as far away from him as possible. He feared him, intensely so, and it made him feel... powerful. It was thrilling, but he knew it was not right to take advantage, either. So, as softly as he could, he repeated his previous question. For some reason, Jonathan didn't expect the redhead's next reaction: the tears and choking, restrained sobs, held back behind a mouth he refused to open for more than a second. The brief moment he did though, something about the flash of teeth struck Jonathan as odd. They were weirdly shaped, for certain, and it held his curiosity more than anything had in the last few weeks. He craved to know more. But at the same time, this boy, as interesting as he was, was falling apart in his arms, refusing to make eye contact with him, tears tracing tracks down his grimy cheeks and obviously extremely distressed.

In the end, curiosity took over though. He was a Royal. This boy needed comfort, but he could not help him if he didn't know what was wrong. And Jonathan had never been taught how to be gentle and civil, so he could only find out the only way he knew how. "Open your mouth," he commanded, the gentle grip he had on him turning to an iron one. He wanted answers, and now. Suddenly, Sherwin's nervousness seemed to disappear. The spark left his eyes, and even the colour of his hair seemed to fade. He was resigned, seeming to accept his fate. Jonathan moved his thumb forward and roughly prised his lips open, only encountering minor resistance.  He stayed still for a few seconds, shocked. The inside of the redhead's mouth had been mangled, distorted from what should be human. The canines had been roughly filed into fangs, and his tongue was slit down the middle, clearly a practice of the Sand Demon clans on their unfortunate red-haired captives. Slowly, he let go, letting the boy hide his shame once more and cower away from him.

"I see..." he whispered. His mind was racing. If he didn't want trouble, he should report the boy right now. Have the guards tie him up so he couldn't move, and dump him in the desert as a peace offering to the Sand Demons, so that they would no longer contest their town's authority.  He looked at Sherwin again. Brown eyes darted off to the side, shoulders hunched, demeanour that of a person knowing of their position as the lowest of the low. He knew. He knew of the pain that the Sand Demons could inflict though. The last thing he wanted to do was to show that he supported them in any way, and besides... He let his hand fall from the boy's face, and instead let it glide through his hair. The red of his curls reflected the light so generously, despite geing dust and sand ladden, and the brown of his eyes was more intense than polished wood. Even by looking at him, he could feel the melancholy dissolve, leaving a warmer feeling in his gut. He didn't like the tears, though. He would have him bathe, whether he wanted to or not, and he would somehow help soothe those tears and that hurt. And even if he did turn out to be a demon, well... at this point, Jonathan didn't care much. "We should get going," he repeated. "The baths await. Oh, and before you think of refusing..." He lifted the boy's chin up firmly, forcing him to look at him again.  "You have no choice."


	9. Sinister

I guess these are my last moments. When he had heard the order, he became numb, losing all sense of emotion. His sadness nearly faded and he accepted the consequences of his next actions. He made his jaw slack and his eyes glazed over as he looked at the Royal's chest rather than his face. He found it less stressful if he did that, especially since he was about to be killed. Somehow, he found a serenity in the golden yellow designs, that spiraled on the medium toned blue.  His lips were pulled back roughly, and his mouth had been forcibly opened further as to find what could possibly lay inside. He flinched as his canines were thumbed over and he was encountered with a still silence. He waited for the striking blow to come, but instead, he received a whisper of comprehension. He was actually disappointed. Guess he'll let the guards take care of this one... He was slumped over and he had looked to the side as his jaw was released.  He wouldn't possibly make his hands dirty with a person like me. Instead of being restrained and being sent to the Royal Guard, he was surprised to find a hand running through his TiOni's mane. Sherwin was unsure if he had felt acceptance or an action that would evolve into... something else. Either way he couldn't help, but warm at the odd touch and had only looked up to the Royal's chest. He had listened carefully and he was yet instructed to follow his lead again, and had made sure to tell Sherwin that he couldn't say no. He internally shivered, and was not too sure what kind of game that this Royal was playing with him, but he did not enjoy it one bit.

He followed the boy, anxiously across the bath area to approach a room that had a strong resemblance to a locker room. When he walked in, the Royal picked up a towel from the folded pile and tossed it at Sherwin, commanding him to undress in another part of the room. Sherwin was hesitant, and so very uncomfortable with this idea that he had stood still, furrowing his eyebrows. He was unsure of what level of undressing the boy was thinking about. He heard an irritated grumble, much of what sounded like a curse and informed Sherwin to leave his undergarments on, obviously.

As Sherwin got undressed, he had forgotten how to feel. Taking off his backpack he hissed from the pain in his back, but other than that all it was, were a few noises of discomfort from fabric rubbing roughly into his back. When he finished, he knew a set of eyes were drilling into his back, which gave him a minor cold sweat. But what did he have to be nervous about? He had already shown the other scars, so why not the ones that were on his body? Though there were pale marks on his back, arms and chest, indicating past injuries, none had compared to the one splayed across his higher back. The branding. An outlined image of demon wings marked by bumpy pink and white scars. Not only that, but it was stained with a dark pitch, like a smear, almost giving the skin a charred look. He looked up and over his shoulder from his boxers, scanning the ground and he was correct; the Royal stood there, in a still position that indicated that he was in fact, staring at him. Rolling his shoulders slightly, he turned around in the direction of the other boy and, breathed heavily, yet quietly. He hearkened for another order and this time it seemed to have a shy undertone, a nervous sound. _Your mistake taking a demon into your home._

He followed the boy again back into the bath area to be commanded more to enter the water. He was hesitant to do this, but his whims told him that he better get in that water because he might never see it again. He entered the water, peacefully, relaxed by its luke-warmness and waded to an edge to sit in on an underwater seat. He heard the water get splashed and pushed with mild violence by the Royal boy, making his way to the parallel side of the pool. When the noise calmed down that’s when he knew that ahead of him, the boy also sat, but also stared at him once more. He didn’t dare to look up at the Royal’s face, rather keeping his eyes on the light from a small window reflecting into the water’s surface.


	10. Dexter

They got to the locker room, a place which immediately made him sour, as it was tiled in blacks and whites. The lack of colour saddened him, made him angry, almost. Or maybe it was his previous actions now weighing down on him. Really, he knew not. Still, he couldn't help but throw the towel in Sherwin's direction, catching him off guard a little. "Go and undress over there, by the further counters," he snapped, pointing to a corner that the benches formed some way off. He sighed and whispered a curse under his breath, adding: "Keep your boxers on, obviously." The redhead retreated grudgingly to the corner of the corner of the room he had been indicated and started to get undressed, Jonathan not being able to tear his eyes away for a few seconds, before shaking himself and turning his back on the traveller in order to pull his own ornate tunic over his head. The room, despite being a natural echo chamber, was uncannily silent save for the rustle of cloth, so when the Sherwin let go of the small pained sound, Jonathan could not help but turn around and stare. This time, he couldn't quite tear his eyes away. His eyesight wasn't the best, but he could still tell that those markings must have been tied to a very, very painful past. Crude, stylised demon wings stood out ashen against otherwise pale skin, and on closer inspection, this was not any tattoo. The whole thing was raised, scar tissue showing that the skin had been damaged. There were many, many other scars around them, but those.... Those were obviously painful, even though they were probably old. They had probably not been tended to properly. His observation was interrupted when the boy turned his way, eyes still directed at the floor. He held an arm in front of him, holding himself in a defensive, tense position. He was obviously not healthy, grimy in such a way that he could not tell the difference between dirt and freckles.

"Right, time to get to the baths. Follow me," he said, although this time his tone was softer. He was starting to understand, to comprehend the sheer amount of pain this person had been through. And truly, it was... a little scary. Not by his modified appearance, not by the devilish additions, but rather by the darkness and hurt that he surely held in that mind of his.

When they stepped out again, Jonathan sighed, glad to be back in a more colourful, vivid environment. Sherwin was still standing at the edge of the pool though, not making a single move to enter the water, simply staring at the slightly moving liquid. His decision was being contested again, and the faint bit of compassion which had flowered in Jonathan earlier was pushed away by his irritation. "I said you had no choice. Get in that pool, now."

That prompted the reaction he wished for. The boy moved, carefully entering the water and wading to the benches. Jonathan sighed and jumped in, carelessly splashing over to the opposite side of the pool and the benches laid there. Again, silence fell over them. Sherwin didn't move, simply looking off to the side, still completely submissive. Jonathan sighed, bored. They were supposed to be getting clean, not sitting awkwardly, slowly getting wrinkly from the warm water. Jonathan moved, treading on the mosaic flooring and making his way towards Sherwin. He tensed visibly, although he did not tear his eyes away from the same patch of water. Jonathan sat on the bench, close to the other boy. He was cringing away from him but refused to look his way. It saddened Jonathan a little, but he had not come over for that. Behind him, he grasped at the towel behind him, pulling the fabric into the water. "I forgot to pick up a cleaning glove, might as well use this. You can use my towel, don't worry." Once the cloth was sufficiently soaked, Jonathan held it up by a corner, taking Sherwin's chin gently in his hand and turning his face his way before rubbing the cloth harshly against one of the boy's cheeks. He washed his face like this, dipping the towel back in the water from time to time to wash out the dust. He did this over and over, scrubbing the redhead's face until he was satisfied with the result. He let a thumb trail across his cheek, making sure that it was soft and no more rugous from dried sweat. "Good. Wash yourself off as much as you can as I just did, I'll go and get soap." He moved off, making his way towards the steps while Sherwin complied.

There were reasons why he didn't want to help him wash off the rest of his body: not because it was weird, he didn't care for that, but mainly because he didn't want to hurt him, rub against old scars that might still be painful, and really... he didn't want to see that burn mark again. It was intimidating. "We have to do your hair too," he pointed out as he settled back on the bench, having waded back in the pool with the bar soap in his hand. "You're going to have to put your head underwater for that."


	11. Sinister

As his face was being washed, or cruelly scrubbed rather, he couldn’t bury the bubbling feeling of vexation. He had slowly only became more irritated with the Royal’s presence and was mildly relieved when he headed off to get the soap. He rubbed off dirt from his body and growled quietly, obeying the order that was set for him while the Royal was getting this cleaning product. When he returned with the aromatic bar, Sherwin flinched away from him again, as he stared down into the water. He had commanded him to stick his head in the water but he paid no heed to it, refusing to follow. After several seconds had passed, the boy tried to stoutly dunk his head in the water, but Sherwin ducked away from the contact, repulsed, and pulled himself away with a snarl. He didn’t care what his consequences were for his next words and actions, knowing that the boy had a mild fear of him. _It was time to show him his dark side. It was time to be brutally honest with this, Royale._

“Please excuse me, sir, but you are so ill-mannered!” Sherwin snapped. He heard a fist fly and he didn’t need to look up to catch it. He stared at the chest of the Royal and continued, “You dare touch me like my dead mum once did? Then treat me as a feral dog?” The other fist came, but he caught that one, too, with his other hand. He quickly whipped his head up to give the other boy a fiery glare, and began to push his arms away from him, with brute force. The boy tried to push back, but was clearly being overpowered; there was a look of fear on his face, “The least you could do is treat TíOni’s demon with a little bit of respect, lest you want it to tear your heart out and serve it to the Sand Demons as a lovely gift,” he snarled. He shoved the Royal away in disgust and scooted a few yards away from him. “And before you think about fighting me… I’ll have you know that after this many battles,” he pointed to the many scars all over his body, “I’m clever enough to have a secret pocket on my boxers that carries a knife big enough to kill a man!” He stared at the Royal’s face, and it was morphed with absolute terror; he had the words stolen from his mouth, unable to respond from the sudden burst of violence. He did not cry out for the Guards and chose to remain silent, floating quietly in the water. Sherwin simply huffed the rest of his blazing emotions out, before returning to a guarded peace, looking back down at the small waves in the water.


	12. Chapter 12

With every second that passed, the irritation builded up in Jonathan's chest, reaching the point where he would rather physically force the kid to his will rather than let him submit to it by his own will. He reached forward, ready to take hold of the somewhat matted red hair again and force him underwater, but something went wrong this time.  
Immediately, he grimaced in rage when he was snarled at, and even more so when he heard the next few words, despite how wrong they felt to hear coming from the mouth of the redhead.  
He let his fist fly forth, his training with the Royal guards being put in practice for the first time ever, but to his surprise it didn't make contact.  
The truths the boy then enunciated, in a clear, hard voice, were painful and only made him even madder, seven more ready to throw his second fist, which he did, and which to his rage was also caught in a surprisingly strong grip considering the boy's skeletal state.  
The mention of sand demons was enough for Jonathan to lose the little bit of strength he still had on his side, and to stumble and flounder back, letting the other get away from his reach.

It wasn't really all that surprising to him, and wasn't what really shocked him. It was rather the way Sherwin stared at him, defied with blazing eyes the authority he represented; it was the look of a man with nothing to lose, wishing to go down with a little bit of pride still attached to his name.  
No more words were exchanged, the atmosphere still tense. Jonathan needed to regain his composure, and once he did, he shook his head and started to speak again, in a now much mellowed voice.  
"Do not... Call yourself such. You are no démon. The ones that you refer to.... I've seen their work. You would never be capable of such a thing. Despite what even you may think, it I'd not a démon I see here facing me, but rather... You are a warrior. A broken one, for sure, with your life shredded and destroyed by the past, but... You are no démon. Do not try to convince me of the contrary."  
He sat back down on the bench, letting his eyes trail away from Sherwin’s tense form, instead observing the pale red of some roses climbing up a trellis off to the side. Their colour wasn't quite as satisfying though.  
" you are still a peasant to me, however, but you are still one worthy of my interest. I want to enjoy your presence by my side. Something about you... Pulls me in. Im unable to describe it otherwise, but please know that I am willing to make certain concessions, to pacify my anger if that is what you wish. If you leave, I'll make sure you will be delivered on a silver platter to the Sand demons though. You are an excellent ticket to their respect, if need be. But I wish otherwise. I wish for you not to be held by them any longer. Now, I'll still ask you to maybe... "  
The royal sighed, irritated at what he was about to lower himself to saying." please wash your own hair out? I'll help, and be careful about it if you need so, and I give you the right to complain if I step over your limits. Do we have a deal? "


	13. Chapter 13

Sherwin turned his back towards Jon and looked over his shoulder, at him breathing as if he were blowing out steam. His words were not good enough for Sherwin and still sounded quite... selfish and rude.   
"You know nothing... nay, worse than nothing about me, Royale," He stated through clenched teeth. "And it surprises me that even some rogue out in the midst of dirt, sand and Sun can have more civility than you." He let loose a fake chuckle and turned his head completely to stare at the chest of the Royal. "In fact, the many who I've encountered in battle had more of a sense of respect than you." He waded off to the far end of the pool, rubbing at the mess of orange-red that was his hair. He thought about the threat that the rich boy had made about him leaving, making him hiss. He shot the boy a glance, noticing that he was slightly being followed. "I'll let you know that I get to leave whenever I want," He grumbled, "I already spotted all the possible exits, that are left unnoticed and therefore, unguarded." This made the other boy be caught off guard and a little bit surprised, which gave the scarred traveller a smirk of satisfaction. He walked slowly to a corner of a pool and carefully relaxed his back against it, running wet hands through his hair. He looked off in the direction of the silenced prince and taunted him with a pose of relaxation. He thought of a way to break the silence. And he knew just the way to do it. To tell him a little fact that will throw him way off into another realm of confusion and frustration.  
"You know... I was way too young to remember it, but I was once somebody like you. Back then, when my town existed, the desperate were lucky to have people like my parents... But then the Sand Demons attacked and that place had ceased to exist. And then people like you, decided to change the course of power because of this tragedy." He looked at the boy's reflection in the water and made another halfhearted chuckle, "I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, though, now would you?"


	14. Chapter 14

Jonathan had been pushed to the limits of his anger, an anger he managed to push down, and which quickly morphed to realisation, then confusion as the boy started on his story. He was practically trembling, not used to feeling so many emotions at once. What he was saying... He knew of this story.  
"A-are you... The Prince of Oasis?" he asked, his voice no more than a whisper. "the lost land of Oasis?"  
He couldn't even tell whether he nodded or not, but did move back in fear when he heard him approach.  
"I-I'm sorry, my Lord, I... Please spare my family, my... My mother, at least. She has been through too much, and... Wait."  
His trembling stopped and he looked up a little at the other boy, eyes stopping at his chest as he had done with him.  
"What proof do you have? Are you a peasant messing with my mind, or... Are you..."  
He swallowed thickly, hunching over and pulling his arms around himself, feeling vulnerable for the first time since his father's death.


	15. Chapter 15

When the Royal lingered closer to Sherwin, he flinched. The Prince of Oasis. His formal name had been spoken, but he would have preferred not to hear it. He saw the boy trembling, he was in fear of this truth. And as much as Sherwin wanted to be smug, he couldn't continue in his pride. He must be always humble, and always listening, like he had been taught by his parents. He whispered the word Oasis to himself as he realized the stories told by his mother, were actually of his home town. He looked up to the Royal's when he called him by more formalities and shook his head when he noticed him bowing his head towards his chest. He did not enjoy the discomforted humility that he saw in the body language of the other boy.  
"Sir... please. E-enough of that. You can look up into my eyes, when you speak to me. Enough of this Royal gesture nonsense." The Royal looked up into his eyes and asked again for some form of proof. Sherwin beckoned the Royal to come closer, which he did, hesitantly, and Sherwin leaned forward, mouth close to his ear. There, he whispered the confidential information of the middle names of the rulers of Oasis, even spelling them out for an additional proof. When he finished spelling out both his mother's middle name and father's middle name, he slowly pulled away and leaned back into the corner of the pool. He watched as the boy, out of shock, clasped a hand over his mouth and shed a singular tear. He almost appeared to crumble and breakdown right in front of the scarred prince. He started begging for forgiveness and pleaded that this information be shared to the Royal Organization. And Sherwin shot his eyes wide open and shook his head several times. He whispered, "Nononono. This cannot be shared with the Royal Organization! I will get a worse fate than I would if they found out I was a demon." He then got a mortified 'why'. And he sat, hunched over, also vulnerable in the other boy's presence. He continued to whisper:  
"Well... let's just say most Royals don't like me very much... Since they think that I caused the raid of Oasis..."  
"Which is understandable because of course a demon will call out to its army, as soon as its made a public appearance..."


	16. Chapter 16

Jonathan listened to this with mildly disbelieving ears, but he sighed after having thought about it for a little. He was right. The Royal Commission were more than unlikely to accept some thin, battle-scared youngster among their ranks, especially one having been tortured at the hands of the Sand Demons, their main enemy. It would disgust them and they were more than likely to try and get him murdered to get to his inheritance and title. A démon in appearance could never be accepted on the throne, the Dictator would never accept to leave his throne to Sherwin, even though it was his rightful place.  
"I guess you're right. My mother and no other Royal should know of this, ever. I think... I can offer you protection, at the very least. The only solution I can think of for the time being is for you to pose as..."  
Jonathan winced. He hated to use the word, to refer to his Lord as such, but he was going to have to.  
"... My valet, until I get the power to help you reclaim your kingdom. I... I pledge allegiance to you, my Lord, and will help you in whichever enterprise you wish to embark yourself in."  
He bowed as low as the water level allowed him, trembling and clamping his eyes shut as tightly as he could.


	17. Chapter 17

He looked down at the once more trembling boy and shook his head once more at the gesture. "No, no please stand tall and square. You don't need to lower yourself in such ways. If we work together, we must see each other, eye-to-eye," he exhaled softly, "I ask of you... Will you see me as your equal?" He helped up the boy from the bent state, a hand on his shoulder, aiding him to stay upwards. The boy had returned the gesture, touching the shoulder of his arm that didn't reach out, looked up at him and gave him a singular nodding motion. Sherwin returned the nod, hand slowly retreating from the blue-eyed boy, and lingering on his arm, before returning it to his side. He longingly stared at those blue eyes that were now full of a gentleness and a kind respect, and it made him warm up on the inside.

Realizing that they had been staring for many seconds too long, Sherwin broke the contact and looked off to the side, thinking of an important matter which had not been addressed. He leaned back into the corner of the pool and spoke quietly and as smoothly as possible, "So... what is your name?" The boy still stammered, possibly from the previous events and answered with his full name, but told the red-haired boy that he could just call him by his nickname. Sherwin gave a comprehensive nod and looked off to the side, and then scratched the back of his head. The silence of the pool area was too jarring, so Sherwin thought of something that would break the silence, maybe a little bit too awkwardly with subtle inflections of embarrassment.  
"Well, Jon, to answer one of your questions from earlier... yeah, you can help me wash out my hair, s-since y'know — hah — you kind of have the soap??" He let loose another nervous 'haha', and continued to scratch the back of his head.


	18. Chapter 18

He couldn't believe it. Despite all he had done, the horrifyingly blatant disrespect he had displayed, he didn't wish to punish him. He didn't accept his offer of service eithef; not that it was something that was negotiable anyway: Jonathan would definitely make sure that he was treated as the superior member of royalty that he was, no matter how he considered him in return. It still warmed his heart that he would so kindly and willingly accept him as such.  
He stared a long time into those dark brown eyes of his, trying to grasp the honey details there. His eyesight was s too bad though; if only he was a little closer...  
The eye contact was broken, and the awkwardness resumed, so much more intense than before. The next few seconds were agonisingly long, silence stretching out too much, before Sherwin asked something, which instantly made Jonathan feel like kicking himself for his own stupidity.

"Jonathan. Jonathan Castrillo of Arroyo. But.... You can call me Jon," he murmured under his breath.  
The silence drew in again, heavy and difficult to breathe in. Jonathan wanted to see that hair again, to admire the curls and intricate array of wisps which composed its locks, the way it dipped a little on his left side....  
The proposition took him completely by surprise, in an awkward, yet jubilant way.  
"y-yeah! I can do that, erm... Maybe it's better to sit on the steps for that."  
They waded over to the other side of the pool and sat, Sherwin one step lower than Jonathan's. "here, just tilt your head back so that the water soaks it, and ... Just, let me do rest, I promise I won't tug ok?"  
Sherwin didn't look that on-board with the idea, visibly nervous, but he made no move to stop Jonathan once he started massaging the soap into his hair. It was really quite dirty, many tangles and even compacted, dead hair dreadlocks needing attention. Patiently, he untangled every one, making sure to never tug or rub his fingers against the few small head scars that the curls covered. To him, this was an extremely pleasant experience, all inhibitions melting away as time passed, the activity feeling pleasant and normal, even. He craved physical contact so badly, and this was really the finest he could have wished for.  
It was way past mealtime when he finished off washing out the last of the soap from the now bright red, slightly orange curls. His hair was much longer than Jonathan first expected, and brighter, too.  
"well, erm... I can maybe leave now.. . I'll go and get some more towels and some acceptable clothes for you, Lor-Sherwin, erm, and ill ask the cook to serve us dinner in my room. Is that acceptable to you?" he asked kindly, scooting à little further away and crossing his arms prudely in front of his chest.


	19. Chapter 19

While he was getting his hair washed, he couldn't help but be soothed by the process, and felt a wave a tiredness. Even though hair shouldn't be washed out for this long, he was glad that Jonathan wasn't trying to rip through his hair and give him sharp stings in his scalp. He was surprised that the boy managed to untangle the few dreadlocks and the knots in his hair, with a certain methodical gentleness. He was pretty sure that most of the time was used, repeatedly stroking and brushing completed sections, but he had nothing to complain about. He would let this go on until he was lulled to sleep, though he knew it would not last. When the soft hands left his hair, he felt spoiled and ever so slightly disappointed, since he hadn't been touched like that for awhile. He looked back at Jon, over his shoulder, and thought about his question, looking off to the side. He nodded and noticed the boy scooting away from him, but he had something to give to him before they got out of the pool. He followed his sideways movement, getting back close to him. Then, he stared into his eyes. Sparkling from shimmers in the water. Just above, he raised one of his eyebrows as a non-verbal 'hm?' and when he kept his pause, Sherwin moved forward. He hugged him loosely, head against his chest because of being a step lower, and started crying. These weren't tears of pain, but much rather tears of relief and maybe joy. At first Sherwin thought he wouldn't respond, but he was again, grateful, that the contact was returned. The gesture remained that way for a couple minutes, until Sherwin decided to make a move to get those towels.


	20. Dexter

At first, Jonathan was unsure how to respond to the following of his movement. He held back a flinch, and instead raised an eyebrow, unsure. It came as a shock when his Lord, the prince of Oasis himself, snaked his arms around his waist and held onto him. Before he could recover from this impromptue action however, the sudden full-body tension, delivered in what seemed to him to be a pained sob. He felt the searing heat of his tears hit his skin, hotter even than the burning one of the sun on bare skin. The contact was not unpleasant, but... again, his melancholy returned, but it was no longer self-pity. It was something else, a sadness shared rather than felt by a single mind. Carefully, he pulled his arms around Sherwin's shoulders, wary of his scars, and returned the soft contact. He brushed his cheek softly against the redhead boy's, feeling the heat of the tear-induced blush there. They stopped after a while, the emotion that needed to be expended now gone. Sherwin was very quick to turn his back on him and sling a towel over his shoulder, covering his brand up as fast as possible, before setting off back to the locker room with a quick patter of feet on wet tile. That had been... really nice. Jonathan felt relaxed, and despite the now setting of the sun and the cooling of the temperature of the pool's water, he didn't shiver. He was stood there, pinned to the spot by everything which had just happened. It was a movement, which he caught out of the corner of his eye, which tore his attention away from the retreating sound of footsteps and up to the other side of the pool. He paled. He would recognise the swish of that gown, emerging from behind the roses, and the piercing blue of those eyes anywhere.

 

 

 

"M-Mother," he stuttered, covering himself. She stood, proud and strong, cutting off his exit from the pool, it seemed. Metaphorically, obviously, because he could always climb up the sides, but it still impacted him. "Well well well... I now see why you chose him rather than another. Not very pretty, I have to say, but... _peculiar_." He didn't like the way she said those words, with that smirk that she thought was knowing. But all this was pushed away by the absolute terror running through his veins. How much had she seen? how much had she _heard_? "To be honest, I was expecting you to get a little... closer. But still, that was rather cute. Build up his confidence, they're always more fun to play with once you break them again. Especially one which has been damaged as so in the past." The young prince didn't reply, simply nodding a little as he stared into the water. Those words charred his mind more than the sun itself, but still... he was relieved. She seemed not to have heard their worded exchanges, and also had arrived relatively late enough to not see him bowing to a person who shouldn't, in her books, ever be fully trusted. "Anyway, I'm glad you found a valet to your taste. It's about time, you're nearly sixteen after all, you should get your wits together if you are to be King one day, understood? Now, I'll have your dinner delivered to your room, just this once. I'll... _tolerate_ your valet's presence, but he will not be allowed at the royal table, understood?" Again, he nodded. Or submitted, rather. Until he was married, he had no right to talk over her. With a flourish of both her hair and her skirt, she was gone, leaving Jonathan to move out of the pool and to return to the locker room. He got there just in time to stop Sherwin from dressing back into his old clothes. "Erm, my Lord... would you rather I get you some fresh linens? Only if you wish, of course."


	21. Sinister

"Oh.. uh, right!" Sherwin mumbles and then turns around to face the boy. "I will accept this offer, if this set gets washed," Sherwin requested, as pointed to his dirty, yet cleanly folded traveler's outfit. Jonathan nodded and agreed to Sherwin's response and was about to walk off to his respective locker. Though the redheaded teen fiddled with his towel and seemed to deeply concentrate about something important, which caught the blue eyes' attention. "I- I just want to thank you," he whispered, "for understanding." Jonathan nodded once more and inched closer to him, if he were to catch more words. "You are one of the firsts to... clearly get it." The Oasian prince looked towards the black and white tile, looking for suitable words for his next statement, taking a few glances at the nearing dark-haired boy. It was until he was only about a yard away, he had murmured again. "And e-even if you haven't said a thing about what is within, I think I already understand you, Jon."

He looked up completely at the boy's face and he could see a forlorn face that was holding back the few tears that threatened to spill. Sherwin had figured out that the news about the murdered Arroyan King was linked to this place... and also the prince. And as much as he inevitably thought back on previous hurts, he realized why the Arroyan Prince was so cold. His anger was subtle and long-term, unlike Sherwin who would have periodic bursts when under pressure. He fathomed.


	22. Dexter

Jonathan nodded dutifully at Sherwin's request, before starting to turn on his heels; however, he was stopped before he could walk away, whispered words nearly too low for him to hear, but which he caught anyway. It took him a few seconds to realise what they meant. They were cryptic, after all, but then... when he mentionned the "within", there was no doubt possible. He tried to hold back the tears, the sobs, but they came quick and true anyway. There was not much he could do about it, and stood pretty still, letting only four large hiccups escape him, before he managed to stabilise himself and to hold them back. He looked up to the prince of Oasis, standing there with a slightly concerned look on his face, arms held out in an inviting manner for a hug, but Jonathan took a step back, eyes now back on the floor. He was not worthy. This didn't seem to matter, however. Sherwin took a step forward and wrapped his arms around him pulling him close immediately and blushing his hand through his still-wet hair. Jonathan stilled, but then melted into the hug, letting now silent tears fall.

 

 

 

"I'll... I'll go and get those clothes..." Jonathan quickly retreated, not sparing another glance at the redhead prince as he did. This was not right. He shouldn't be allowed in such intimate presence of someone so superior.

 

He hurried off quickly down the corridor, scuttling to his room and opening the cupboards, standing there for a second before grabbing a pair of the comfortable outfits which he used to sleep in. This would have to do for the time being.


	23. Sinister

He shot a look of concern towards the departing boy, then scrambled, throwing his towel around his back and picking up all of his belongings. He gingerly yet quickly followed the Royal towards what he assumed to be his room. As much as he would've patiently waited in the locker room, he did not want to be left alone in a room and possibly face... the Queen of Arroyo. He had overheard her conversation with Jon and he definitely did not like what he heard. He was not ready for that at all. As he sneakily followed the boy, at his heels, he marveled the architecture in the corridor; curving, stone support beams and ceilings painted in deep indigo and blue designs, contrasting the terracotta tile which laid out in hexagon formation. There were a couple statues of Greek-cut busts and there were some paintings that made the desert appear to be a marvelous heaven. When he arrived in Jon's room, it was of a similar theme, but carried a lot of personality. The terracotta tile turned into zig-zag triangles, and was clothed with Southwestern-patterned rugs, matching the warm color scheme of the floor. The ceiling, was painted in such dark blues and was sprayed with yellow speckles, almost appearing as a night sky. On his wall-mounted shelves displayed genuine findings of a coyote skull and a various collection of red rocks. There were other things on the shelves but he took more of a notice of the aqua bed. It was surprisingly simple, but he had adored those same patterns which also marked the floor. Geometric cerulean shapes and purple lines, making his eyes, dance all about. Putting down his belongings, he was going to compliment the room more, until he was bumped into and heard a sharp intake of air. "O-oh uh, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you, hahaha?" He had faltered, while backing up and putting his hands up in a friendly signal.


	24. Dexter

Jonathan decided quickly on the garments he was going to pick out, mustard yellow and cyan, as were most of his clothes, when he turned around brusquely and bumped into someone. He jumped back immediately, thinking at first that it was a servant sent to being him their meal, but as soon as the flash of red hair registered in his brain, his eyes widened and his grip on the clothes in his hands tightened. "Oh erm, I apologise, my Lord," he replied, eyes darting to the carpet at the foot of the bed. "I hope, I, erm, these clothes are to your liking." The Arroyan prince quickly set the door clothes on the bed, hearing a knock on the doorframe. That sounded more like what a servant would do, and indeed, there stood someone holding a tray. "thank you, my fair lady," he mumbled while taking the tray from her, but seconds later, realising that he had adressed someone who was supposed to serve him as a person of the same status as himself, he immediately clapped his hands over his mouth, quickly shaking his head, panicked. If his mother found out about this, he was not only going to get a telling-to, but also questionned as to where his new politeness came from. And he couldn't afford to even hint at Sherwin's status.

 

Much to his relief, she nodded sharply before walking off, leaving him with a plater of cheese and cooked fruit, swallowing back the fear climbing up his throat. "I... Hope this meal will be to your liking." Jonathan set the platter down, realising, as he watched Sherwin examine the platter with interest, that he was the reason to him now having a small part of consideration for people below him. Anyone could be a king in disguise. "I... I will take a guest roon this evening. They're not quite as nice as my room is, so it's for the best," he enunciated with difficulty. He quickly turned his back on the Greatest Prince to pull the shirt to the pyjama-like clothing left over over his head. He was nervous. His mother will be watching over them closely, so the proposition he had given was maybe not the wisest. If it was reported to her that one of the guest rooms had been slept in, she would ask questions. And she would know exactly which ones to ask, as well. Jonathan couldn't however go and sleep in the servant's quarters, and it was even more so out of the question for the firemane prince. They were stuck, he expected them to sleep in the same bed, but... That would be incredibly indecent to propose. Instead of thinking about it any longer, Jonathan sighed and served them both some water.

 

 

 


	25. Sinister

Sherwin followed along and picked up his belongings again, to set them next to the foot of Jon's bed. He sat down on the side and waited for Jon as he went to answer the knock of his door frame. With a perked ear he had heard a mumbling that apparently made Jon want to slap himself. _Strange._ The meal came forth and Jon had set the platter down next to him. Roasted prickly pears and Monterrey Jack cheese, he had observed and the aroma made his mouth water. The tray was so clean that he could see the reflection of the ceiling in it. He glanced briefly at Jon and nodded when he spoke of the food. He was about to dig in, but he refrained from doing so, more interested in what Jon had to say next. _Oh that's right there's only one bed in here... Hmmm._ He looked up at Jon when he had turned his back on him to put on his pajama shirt. He thought to follow along with the procedure and pull the offered shirt over his head and he fiddled around with it, to straighten it out around his torso. The upper back of the shirt was surprisingly a bit snug on him and he just rolled with it. _Ah... Some fresh clothes... They smell pretty nice, too._ He had looked to his right at Jon and saw that he was deeply concentrating, as if he needed to make a decision about where he should sleep, since he was glancing ever so often at the bed.

 

 

 

When he started to pour water in Sherwin's cup he spoke up in hopes that it would help Jon make a decision. "Hey uh.... don't get hurt about this, but your mo- The Queen of Arroyo.. She kind of makes me nervous." Jon looked up at him, almost spilling the water in the process. Sherwin took a cautious, swift hand and caught the pitcher, putting it back at its original tilt. He had gave him that same eyebrow raise in the bath area. "Um, well, what I'm trying to say is... You should probably stay here because it feels too dangerous to be by myself." He looked to the left and itched his warming face. _Stop it, devil, you cannot feel this way. It's wrong because it won't last._ He wasn't too sure if Jon would respond so he simply sighed. He got up to show him something that would convince him a bit better. He walked over to his backpack, unzipped the big pocket and reached into a nearly unnoticeable internal pocket. He pulled out the crystalline structure, a pure quartz that spiked with several main crystals in every other direction. Though, it wasn't an ordinary quartz; on the base of the crystal, a gold band was wrapped, and carved in it was the letters which spelled "OASIS". A valuable, perfect, reddish rock specimen. He closed both hands around it as if he had captured a frog, and brought it towards Jon, walking in front of him and facing him. He open his hands carefully and steadily, to reveal to Jon his secondary piece of proof. The Crystal of Oasis in all of its red sparkling, as if it were crystallized blood.


	26. Dexter

At the mention of his mother, Jonathan flinched. Had he heard the exchange they had had in the bath area? No, she had treated him in an undignified manner before, it must have been that which had impressed him. Still, the implications... Didn't he realise how difficult it was going to be for him to get another set of bedding, another mattress, brought into this room? Didn't he realise that he was in no way honourable enough to sleep in the same room, and Orda forbid share a _bed_. Especially with the lie he had woven. It was the obvious solution, but... Even imagining his mother's supposedly knowing smirk in the morning and her nod of approval made him feel deeply uncomfortable. Fortunately, Sherwin didn't seem to be expecting an answer straight away. In fact, he got up without even touching the food (didn't he know of the rule that highest ranking get first choice?), and instead pulled something out of his bag. At first, Jonathan thought it might be a pet, from the way he held the unknown object. Nothing squeaked or scampered though, so he quickly set aside the idea. The way the Prince positioned himself though... This was something he didn't want the eventual eavesdropper to see. Carefully as he slowly revealed the object, Jonathan shuddered. The relic looked like what the incarnation of life cool have looked like, a perfect philosophers stone which no engraving could ever represent as well as the original and which no worded description could quite capture.

 

 

 

"my lord... You honor me greatly," Jonathan whispered under his breath once the stone had been hidden from view again. "I'll make sure to help you regain your legacy. You are the one who will save us, who will once again make the desert bountiful and filled with greenery and water enough for anyone." There was disapproval again as Jonathan bowed his head, but he couldn't care less. Sherwin was the key to everything, there was no way he was going to treat him as any less as who he was. " Do you wish to eat, my Lord ? You seem hungry and the day has been long and eventful, please partake in this meal with me."


	27. Sinister

When he bowed, Sherwin had told him that it would not be necessary to do that, but Jon didn't listen this time. He was then asked a question that made him nervously giggle, "Uh, yeah. By the way,  _you can_ call me Sherwin or Sher. We should probably tone down the formalities, here,  _hahahah_ ." He went to put the crystal back in his bag and heard a hesitant approval, as he dropped it into the small, internal pocket and zipped the bigger pocket. He then went back and sat down and hesitantly took a piece of fruit, and made sure to eat it slowly and not gorge himself. He shall not become so adjusted to this lifestyle because he might need to hit the road again.


	28. Dexter

"M-maybe that would be preferable?" It would be less suspicious to his mother anyhow, if she happened to have any spies sicced on them. It was weird eating with the prince, the silence not uncomfortable as it usually was when he ate with his mother. Or rather, it was less melancholy. The food actually had a taste, and didn't seem to have the consistency of sawdust as it usually did. It was... pleasant. They were clean and somewhat comfortable, and even if unspoken pain did fill the air somewhat, there was also comfort to that pain, a compensation of sorts.

 

 

By the time they finished eating, the atmosphere had gotten quite a bit colder, the night temperature having taken over. Jonathan shivered as he got up at last, bare feet pattering across the freezing tiled, shivering a little. He was usually in bed by this time, nice and warm, but they had spent quite a bit of time simply eating. There was a sink in the corner of the room, and he walked up to it, glancing back a little as he asked his question: "I'm... my L-Sherwin, I don't know whether you're in the habit of brushing your teeth. I think... please, maybe it might be better if you did? Erm, it's just a suggestion... because, you lack enamel..." He didn't want to go any further in his explanation, and fortunately he didn't have to, as the redhead got up and quickly joined him by the sink.

 

 

 

Jonathan wasn't sure what to say. It was stressing him out a lot, the fact that sneaking out and getting another matress was nigh impossible in the situation he was in. He didn't want to say anything, but as time passed, as he came closer and closer to the end of his evening rituals, Jonathan's trembling became more and more pronounced. He was stressed, not quite as much as he had been a few months ago after the raid and the death of his father, but it was close. He was scared, because this was the Pince of Oasis, not matter how much he put himself down and saw himself as normal. He was also pretty much lethal, as far as Jonathan could tell. The more he thought about maybe disapointing, or even angering the other boy, the more he feared for his life, for his honor, so much so that when he turned to him, Jonathan couldn't help but flinch away, catching a glimpse of those sharpened teeth as he did.

 


	29. Sinister

When Jonathan mentioned something about brushing teeth, Sherwin nodded and came to the sink quickly. He had remembered his mother telling him that if he did not want a form of a slow, painful death, that he had to brush his teeth on the daily. Having four of his teeth filed, made him prone to get cavities which is a big no no, unless he wanted a mouth infection. He immediately followed through with the procedure and cleaned his teeth with a certain vigor, knowing that the sharp canines could be seen, clearly. He didn't care too much anymore because he had already revealed them to Jon and he trusted him. When he finished off, scrubbing the molars, he spat the liquid into the sink and washed it down the drain. He turned and he was going to thank Jon, but he was encountered with vulnerability and fear. When he looked at the Prince of Arroyo he wasn't expecting him to tremble the way he did.  _Did he finally realize he brought a demon into his home?_ He thought about the obvious and troublesome situation. He was scared to sleep with a devil in the same room, he understood. He looked to the floor with a hint of shame and scratched the back of his head, unsure. “Hey, it's going to be fine. At least the monster won't be  _underneath_ your bed…” He looked back up and Jon and had seen a reflection of that same shame. He was about ready to say something that Sherwin predicted to be an apology, but he had continued, quietly and dejectedly, “Don’t worry it will stay on one side of the bed. I'll make sure of it.” Sherwin washed out the toothbrush, put it away and walked towards the left side of the bed. Without hesitation or listening for a response to his words, he laid down on his side and faced his back towards Jon, uninterested in a continuation of that conversation.


	30. Dexter

Something shocked Jonathan when Sherwin referred to himself as a monster. He meant it in the worst, most self-deprecating way possible. He could see in his eyes that that was exactly how he saw himself, how he had thought that Jonathan had seen him. He was ready to open his mouth to contest this, but the redhead had already turned hs back on him and retreated to the bed, turning his back on him completely. This was enough to make Jonathan realise that he did not wish harm upon him. By his status, Sherwin was incredibly impressive, but... he trusted the Arroyan prince. With a careful step forward, and another, and yet another, he managed to come close enough to the bed to nervously lie down on the matress. Once he was there, his stress fell quite a bit. The downy comfort was one he was used to, and having another person there wasn't quite as disturbing as he thought it would be. They lay there for a while, several hours, probably. None of them were sleeping. Jonathan could tell, from the way Sherwin's breathing hadn't deepened since earlier on. The room temperature was getting cooler too, and Jonathan shivered. He usually fell asleep by now and didn't feel the cold, but it was not the way it was to be tonight, obviously. He curled his toes into the fabric of his pants, but it didn't work.

 

 

 

They were two in the bed though. And Sherwin hadn't minded the contact, the hugs earlier. So, cautiously, Jonathan shifted a little, turned over, and gently wrapped his arms around Sherwin's waist. With baited breath, he waited for a reaction he was not sure he was going to get. He shifted a little closer, but stopped, not finishing the hug. He didn't know how painful those back scars were. His whole body was trembling with conflicting nervousness, awkwardness, but also the touch hunger, the want to hold this person he held so dear, who he was ready to sacrifice his life for, as close as possible, to soothe the hurt away and to restore him to the great entity that he should have been. But he couldn't. There was no way he was doing that and risking hurting him, or to remind him of past hurt.


	31. Sinister

He had heard the cautious steps and the boy lay down gently at the right side of the bed. He was temporarily grateful for the silence, but it had turned sour. For approximately, fifteen minutes—Sherwin had counted— he had thought about his journey so far, for the first time. Running through the arid, reddish lands to escape that manic laughter that would taunt his ears. He ran on and on, away and away, until he heard no more human noises. Where it was just him, the creatures, the sands, and the cursed Sun. Days were scalding and nights were frigid. The Sun burned and dried his lips until they were cracked, sore. The pitch of the night, in his tent, he felt frosted breath and numbness. Amongst the cold, he would whisper, under his breath, the tales of Oasis to himself as a mild comfort, so he could go to sleep. And now, he analyzes; somehow, he made it to the bed of a surprisingly kind Royal. He didn't even need his poncho. The surface of the bed was warm enough, but many thoughts had kept him awake. And sometime along his wondering he had felt the bedding shift and a shivering hand wrap around his waist. He knew exactly whose hand this belonged to, and he would've twisted around and shout-whispered what in the heavens above was he doing, but not a word escaped him. He realized that the boy was shaking, most likely from the cold, and he responded in a hospitable manner, adjusting himself gently in the Royal’s embrace. He had to bear with it, as embarrassing as it was because, after all, this was Jon’s bed. And if Jon was cold on his own bed? Sherwin could not allow it because he was so benevolently given this spot to rest in.


	32. Dexter

Pushing his inhibtions aside, Jonathan pulled Sherwin closer. He really needed contact, a hug, anything. His world had been turned upside down, some colour had returned to it. It was scary. But it was for the best, he knew. "Thank you," he murmured, before Sherwin could snap at him for his action. He could feel him tense, even more so as he lightly rested his face close enough to feel a few whisps of the newly-cleaned hair tickle his face. "Thank you for helping me see better. Thank you for giving me purpose." The words were heartfelt, every one of them. He let silence come along for a second longer, but quickly he started talking again, not being able to hold back the words any longer, and afraid that Sherwin would snap at him, push him off the bed, kick him away, or anything else that would interrupt what he had to say. "I... I want to help you... well... heal. As much as you can. Even before I knew you were our rightful ruler, I... I want to make sure that you're respected and that your dignity is restored, as much as I trust that our land will be." Not knowing what to do next, realising what he had done, he tensed up, waiting for whatever response, or lack thereof, he would get.


	33. Sinister

Sherwin had not expected to be pulled closer the back of his head flopping gently back onto Jonathan’s chest.  _I was definitely not expecting this._ At first, he thought he was going to get strangled or suffocated, suddenly betrayed, which made him tense. However, he suddenly felt a certain safeness about the situation, when he heard soft-spoken words from behind. He tensed again when he felt a cheek in his hair, and his face began to burn.  _Stop it, devil! Stop!_ The murmurs came again as a thanking, a gratefulness. Jon’s voice sounded warm-hearted, very genuine to his words, which had only made Sherwin blush more.  _No, no, no. I can't catch feelings… this is wrong._ Still in his hold, Sherwin listened for the next words, unable to respond with what he was given. He was unable to be verbal, his feelings, a big mess scrambling about his brain. Every time Jonathan had breathed down on him, the hotter his face got. And those next words that came blew him away.  _He wants to help me? I just hoped for survival, but this?_ Sherwin shed a singular hot tear and was still muted from his mixture of emotions. Another one fell and he decided to respond without words. He relaxed, leaning back on Jon and hesitantly hugged his arms. And then after realizing the heat and softness of the contact, he cried very quietly, his sobs coming out as hushed as a mouse’s cry. He felt the embrace consume him even more than it did before and he kept crying. The last time he ever felt something like this was only days before his parents died. His mom’s hug was a thing he longed for multiple times and whenever he finally received one it was like wings stretched out and then folded over into something snug and secure. Something that would make sure he would never leave her side. Something that reminded him that he was very deeply loved.


	34. Dexter

At first, Jonathan thought that the slight trembling might be laughter. He was ready to shy away in shame, to let go and move off. He would have understood if he were mocked, that was all he deserved, after all. He was about to let go and roll over onto his side of the bed, but he felt arms hold his own down, keeping him in place. That was when he realised that the tiny giggles that he thought he had heard were actually sobs, so small and discrete that he wouldn't have heard them if he had not payed close attention. Jonathan had no idea why though. Had he... overwhelmed him with his words? Whatever the case, he wanted to show he was there for him. If words didn't work, he'd show him in acts. With renewed determination, he finally took the step he was hesitant to take and pulled the other boy flush against his chest and burried his face in his hair. After a while, a long while, the small sobs stopped wracking his frame and he relaxed his grip on Jonathan's arms, letting him pull one out from his grasp and gently pet his hair, until they both fell asleep.

 

 

 


	35. Sinister

His sobbing soon slowed as he took in stable breaths and leaned, comfortably, back into Jon’s presence. Only tears fell when he adjusted to the warmth and security. It felt odd to feel something he connected with his mom to be emanating from a person such as Jon, but he ignored it, gladly. This embrace...he reveled in it, loosening his hold on his arms. He relaxed and felt one of one of the arms leave his side and he would've complained about it, but he was silenced when the hand went to pet his hair.  _Mom…_ He was being tempted to cry again, but he couldn't. He had felt too cozy and happy to do so. His sniffles came to a stop and he hugged the arm that was still wrapped around him, getting ready to go to sleep. And it happened quickly after many strokes of his hair. As soon as he went to sleep, he had awoken to morning. Greyish light seeped from the window and Sherwin squinted at it, still sleepy. His senses adjusted and he realized that he was snug against something, or someone rather. He blushed when he looked down at his waist and saw arms wrapped there. He did this even more so when he realized there was also a head laying on his neck. He blinked away the remaining sleepiness and carefully observed who had him in the position. It was of course nobody other than the Prince of Arroyo himself.  _Shit._ He squirmed a little bit, trying to release his head from the weight of the other head, but all he did was stir Jon and make him subconsciously have a stronger restraint on him. This made Sherwin groan quietly and he held his face with his hands.  _What happened last night? And what are these feelings? Why do they burn my face like so?_ His face went crimson when he heard a whisper of hot breath linger in his ear. A good morning and his nickname.  _Oh no. I'm catching feelings._ He had started to hyperventilate and take unsteady breaths, when Jon started waking up. 


	36. Dexter

Jonathan was awoken by something wriggling. The feeling of... We'll, whatever he was hugging was too nice though, he would not let whatever this was escape him so easily. He felt right, not empty. Slowly, he woke up though H, wondering who exactly this person je was cuddling was. The previous day's events suddenly flooded his mind, and he couldn't help but wish to give the other boy attention, squeeze him a little tighter against him before stiring and awakening a little more properly. "gmorning, Sher," he mumbled sleepily. As much as he was relaxed, Sherwin, on the other hand, felt stiff in his arms. Uncomfortable. Slowly, he released the redhead, who seemingly was more or less completely awake and aware as compared to him. "sleep well?" he mumbled, stretching his now empty arms above his head. The other boy did not respond with words, simply a small nod. Seeing his discomfort and assuming it was to do with his mother, who they were supposed to be seeing today Jonathan caught one of Sherwins hands in his own and squeezed softly.(edited)

 

 

 

"it'll be OK, my Lord, as long as you don't speak up to her, she... She will leave you alone." As much as he wanted to promise that, he could not. She was unpredictable and so incredibly smart that she probably would have some questions to ask, but there wasn't really much he could do about it. " maybe we should go and get our morning food. Mother won't be at the table at such an hour, we will be alone and fine."


	37. Sinister

He felt thankful that he was being released, so he could squirm away and sit up a fair distance from Jon, but not too far. He stretched his arms into his lap and flexed his neck around. No popping noises greeted him, which was a relief from the harsh life out in the desert. Jon asked if he slept okay. Well he was warm, didn't get joint stiffness and was the bed considerably soft. He also got to sleep in Jon's gentle touch. He looked away and blushed once more. _Why must he be so kind? He is not like the most of the Royals I know about..._ He nodded, not wanting to show his reddening face, knowing that it would only get warmer in color if he were to look at Jon and speak to him. He looked quickly at something else, more specifically, his hand because it was secured and squeezed in a reassuring manner. He only looked up halfway at Jon because not all the warmed color had not yet left his face and listened to what the prince had to say.

 

 

 

The color definitely left his face when the Queen was spoken of. He had many doubts about those reassuring sentences, uncomfortable with the idea that this insufferable woman would give any sort of mercy to him. _It can't be possible._ When breakfast was mentioned he was mildly pleasured with it. Sensing the shadow lurker-like personality of the Queen, he knew that much like a Dust Demon, she would stalk him for the rest of his life. He shuddered. Maybe he can believe Jon for this one instance. After all, even a lurker or demon needs rest. He felt the hand petting his arm and he had instantly gained some sort of strange giddiness from it. He smirked and got up from the bed, stretching out his limbs and tossing his fists a few times. "Okay..." he looked back at Jon and gave him a playful, smug expression, "Guess I'll race you over there, then!" He flew through the air like a rock fired from a slingshot, quietly running through the corridors. Jon was behind him, catching up and he could hear him chuckling. "What? You think you can go faster than me?" He was surprised that with a burst of energy Jon caught up with him by his side. "Hey!" Sherwin said in mock anger, and playfully punched Jon's arm, "I'm going to get there first, whether you like it or not!" Jon, too, had developed his own deviously conceited expression and continued to race Sherwin. He had only gotten a couple steps ahead of him and when they got into the dining area Jon very suddenly halted and Oasian Prince had ran into him, almost bowling him over.

 

 

 

When he looked up at him he was faced with him looking towards what he assumed to be the dining table in complete shock and slight horror. The redhead followed his line of sights and he could feel his soul leave him, making him become very pale. _I should've listened to my doubts._


	38. Dexter

The race had been fun, even though Jonathan was more or less certain that Sherwin had let him take the lead out of pity. For a minute, he had set aside their statuses and had simply had fun, laughing and racing along the colonnade as he had done... before. There was a strange nostalgia to the run, especially since only the sound of his footsteps were heard slapping against the coloured tile, Sherwin's remaining somehow muted. They rounded the corner leading into the dining room, open onto the greenest part of the garden, Jonathan spotting some people sitting at the table, but didn't think much of them. But then, when he came close enough for him to be able to focus on their faces, he stopped suddenly, Sherwin tripping and nearly crashing into him as he did so. They both remained standing though, fortunately, but Jonathan was now trembling like a leaf: not only was his mother sitting at the table, but a second figure was by her side, a person he recognised for having grown up by her side. "Sunny."

 

 

 

"Hello, Jonathan," she replied cooly. The Queen or Arroyo turned away from her food and looked towards her son, unimpressed. "What a way to present to your fiancée, son. Acting like a child, especially in front of your future Queen, is in no ways polite or worthy of your status." Jonathan dropped his eyes to the ground, apologising quickly. He was embarrassed, and expecting more questions, more prodding and ironic statements which will drive him even further into the ground, and Sherwin along with him. In fact, he could feel that the other boy was hiding behind him, trying to take up as little room as possible, and definitely wishing to be anywhere else but here in this instant. "So, who is this, then?" the Princess asked, a hint of jealousy already tainting her voice. Jonathan winced, but replied anyway, in muted tones which still seemed to echo as loud as a shout in the perfectly silent space. "This is... my valet." Jonathan winced. Such words had the most awful taste on his tongue, they were demaeaning in the worst of ways and implied something which he absolutely did not stand for. He glanced up at Sunny, seeing a flash of rage cross her face before she regained her neutral expression. She stood up and took a few confident steps in Jonathan's direction, brusquely grabbing his collar, pulling him down and kissing him right there and then. The shock lasted for a second before the disgust hit and he pushed the girl back, completely bewildered. "Jonathan! That was extremely impolite," his mother snapped. The boy didn't even try looking at her in defiance, knowing she would very readily take Sunny's side on this. "I'm sorry to have pushed you away," he mumbled.

 

"That is not enough, Jonathan, but I'll accept it anyway." Sunny's steps next led her to Sherwin, who shrank away from her, keeping his eyes lowered, but not making any move other than this to get away from her. "You have such poor taste... A redhead, really...", she tutted, petting Sherwin's red curls. Without warning, she pulled on a strand of hair with all her strength, eliciting a pained sound which revealed the boy's filed teeth for a second. Jonathan twitched and felt very angry in that moment, his instinctive reaction being to step forward and slap the girl. He didn't, however, and held back. "It disgusts me. Get rid of it, I don't want to have to lay my eyes on it again." "Sunny..." Jonathan growled. "I'm betting you already have an entire _harem_..." "How dare you," she hissed, clearly offended. Tensions were rising quickly and Sherwin was forgotten for a bit as the Prince of Arroyo and the Princess of Bajada squared up and started taking step after step towards each other. "I think that is enough." The words cut through the rage thick atmosphere and seemed to douse both the teenager's fury almost instantly. If there was one person neither of them would ever disobey, it was the Queen of Arroyo. "Sunny, sweetheart, I think you're being a tad unfair with my son. Let him have his fun, practice makes perfect, as you well know, and I'll make sure that on your wedding day you will never have to lay your eyes on anything offensive to you ever again." It was not a question, but an order, a compromise that Jonathan was not ok with and which Sunny most definitely did not appreciate either. They both nodded and accepted the conditions, but the look the Princess threw Jonathan said it all: she was going to get her way.

 

 

 

"Anyhow, now that this is settled, how about we all have a nice meal together?" she added, patting the tabletop. "You, valet, are dismissed, you may leave." She waved her hand at Sherwin, gesturing vaguely to an archway leading out of the room. Jonathan looked at him helplessly, jerking his head in the direction of where his mother wanted him to go. There were no alternatives for the time being. He just hoped the kitchen staff would be kind to him.


	39. Sinister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jess is one of OakwoodOuroboros' characters.  
> -Dexter

He hid slightly behind Jonathan, staring over his shoulder, at what he assumed to be a Royal from Bajada. He watched, noticing her priggish posture and became irritated with that same complacent tone of voice that he had heard before.  _Oh great another better-than-thou._ He looked up slightly at his mentioning and saw anger splash across the girl's face, realizing that she was jealous.  _Ah! Envious that a demon lays with the Prince of Arroyo and not thou???_ It was almost as if she read his thoughts because she had abruptly gotten up from her seat and walked towards him and Jon. She had challenged his thoughts, yanking Jon down to forcibly kiss her, and his pride had been stroked when Jon pushed her away in utter disgust, even gagging a little bit. His pride instantly faded when the Queen had snapped at him. He sank back, behind Jon even more so when he saw Sunny's footsteps approach him. He looked up at the ceiling and submitted himself like he did with the Arroyan Prince before. The acidic hand had touched him and he had accepted it, knowing he might receive death.  _Of course. An insult. Always an insult first._ It was a warning; while she dragged her talon-like nails through his hair she suddenly yanked out a strand of his hair near a scarred area of his hair. He let loose a pained growl, irritated about how the hand was taunting him rather than just hurrying up and getting the murder over with. He noticed that even though the girl was a chunk a bit shorter than him, her presence was still irritatingly menacing.

 

When the hand left and she had spoke, he had only cringed slightly at the way she had referred to him. He realized that he was getting too adjusted with how Jon was treating him which is a bad idea. This is mainly because an interaction like the one he was given right now was common, and having his wounds petted and coddled was a scarcity. When he heard Jon's response he was surprised to hear an insult come from his mouth and be directed at the Royal rather than him. This had quickly stirred tensions and the two teenage Royals looked like they were about to duke it out. Although the Queen had intervened once again and he had became uncomfortable about what she had to say. _Right valets._ He was dismissed from the room and before he left it, and through the archway, he muttered a swear which temporarily silenced the room. Quietly growling, he made his way through the hallway and towards what appeared to be the kitchen.

 

 

 

_Wouldn't hurt to explore, I guess._ When he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted with mellow oranges and yellows. Warmth and clattering dishes and cutlery. Here, he had seen many servants preparing the morning selection and many aromas, especially fruity ones, filled the air. A few servants gave him a few glances and he suddenly heard a sharp 'pssst'. He turned around to his right and there was a servant girl, in fact, the same one he had seen from last night, arranging platters and the food that lied among them. She spared him a glance and told him to make himself useful. Something about the derogatory, yet frisky toned 'Loverboy' nickname felt familiar and he wasn't too sure how. He had joined her side and arranged the food, copying the movements. She slapped his hands when he put too many pieces mesquite bread onto one platter. She scolded him and told him that the Prince should only have so many, and coldly stated his name. He started to recognize this voice that he must have heard some time ago from the vast expanses of the desert. It was definitely the deep mysterious tone with the hint of sassy undertones. "...Jess?" He whispered. His childhood memories. His rogue best friend that had taught him alongside his father the ways to fight. The girl that took on five Sand Demons with one long swipe of a blade. The one person that he had as a sort of playmate for the longest amount of time. The one who would suddenly appear from behind a give an eerie 'boo'. The girl who accidentally caught his tent on fire once. _Jess. This must be Jess._


	40. Dexter

Immediately, Jess stopped what she was doing. She froze, for a quarter of a second over the use of her old name, before she turned sharply and looked, truly looked at this kid who she had thought was a no one. "Sherwin ?" she whispered. He didn't look the same. He had always been gaunt and nervous, but there was a coldness to him which had never been there, a resignation that was scary to see. He was just like her now. He was no longer afraid of death. "don't say that again, I'm Claire here," she said nervously, but looking around she saw that there was no one around who could have heard them. She relaxed a little, even though she was still buzzing with questions. "It's a small world indeed, as they say," she continued, not stopping her work. "What brings you here then? And really, it only took a handsome royal to break your resolve to ever bed with someone?" She chuckled a little, but it quickly died down when she realised how sad the whole affair was.

 

 

 

Sherwin was quick to ask her about she was doing here though, why she wasn't running the desert anymore. "well, mainly because of this," she replied, tapping her métal leg against the ground. It clanged loudly, the sound echoing through the room. "Gangrene. No, I was not bested in battle, you little punk, how dare you?" she snapped playfully, ruffling Sherwin's hair. "here, wanna spit in the queen's cup? The prince's?" He shook his head at the second suggestion, even though he approved of the first. . "He treats you well. I'm glad to hear that, at least." She still had many questions to ask, but she knew Sherwin as a very private person. Forcing him to recount something which had changed him so much didn't sound right, so she simply let him spit in the princess's and the queen's cup before moving on. In the corridors, she was surprised to see Jonathan walking in the opposite direction. She narrowed her eyes at him, stopping him with a "already finished, my Lord?" which he was quick to answer on the positive before moving on. _I hope nothing bad will come of this, she reflected,_ but deep in her heart, she was more or less certain that such a thing was unlikely.


End file.
